The Redemption of a Rogue, стр. 10
“Of course he’s handsome as the devil,” the young woman continued. “But you know that, of course. If you become his mistress, you will be well pleased.”
Imogen jerked to attention and water sloshed around her. “His—his mistress!” she gasped out. “Oh no. I mean to say that isn’t…”
Mary popped her head around the edge of the screen. Her cheeks were bright pink. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I assumed. Please don’t be angry.”
Imogen struggled for calm. After all, how could it not be assumed that was what she had been brought here for? She and Fitzhugh had been alone in his house last night, unchaperoned, whether or not she had shared his bedroom.
“I’m not angry,” she assured the young woman.
Relief washed over her face. “Very good. Th-they should have those gowns almost ready, Mrs. Huxley. I’ll go check on them if you’re well on your own.”
“I am,” Imogen said, forcing a bright smile so the poor girl would no longer look so sick.
She slipped away and as the door shut, Imogen rested her head back on the rolled towel Mary had placed as a pillow on the edge of the tub.
Fitzhugh’s lover! What a thought. One she couldn’t get out of her mind. What kind of lover would he be? Surely he would bring the command he exhibited in life into the bedroom. Those full lips would feel like heaven on her skin. Those strong hands would be like magic on her body.
She blinked up at the intricately carved ceiling above. Great God, what was she doing thinking such things? What was she doing feeling the pulse of need at those thoughts? A need she could easily slake by…
She slid her hands beneath the water, spread her legs a fraction and smoothed a fingertip across her entrance. She was wet, and from far more than the bathwater. Electric pleasure jolted through her. Her breath trembled from her lungs as she repeated the action.
Her whole body thrummed with tension. Both from the horror of her situation and a more pleasant kind. She knew release would help. It was something she’d learned over the lonely years of her marriage. She could make the pressure lift with a few strokes of her hand, even if the relief didn’t last forever.
She shut her eyes and stroked harder, rolling her clitoris with her thumb. She let her mind wander and it took her right back to Fitzhugh. Back to his study when the air between them had felt so thick and heavy. What would have happened if she’d done more than take his hand for that brief moment?
What would have happened if he had tugged her closer like he had in the carriage? Or set her on the edge of the desk and stepped between her legs?
The pleasure mounted with that thought and she followed it even though she knew she shouldn’t. Followed it to his hands pulling up her skirts. Followed it to his mouth on hers. To his cock sliding deep into her body as she clung to him helplessly.
She followed all her fantasies, as wrong as they were, until her legs began to shake and the pleasure roared up like a wave in the ocean. When it crashed over her, she arched, her toes flexing against the sensation. It was over too soon and she sank back in the rolling water, sated if only for a moment.
Lucky, too, for the door to the chamber opened and she slid her hand from between her legs as she heard the maid return. “These gowns are lovely, Mrs. Huxley. You’ll look beautiful in them.”
“Very good,” Imogen said as she pushed to her feet and grabbed for a folded sheet of woven linen left by the tub to dry herself. She draped it over her body just as the maid came around the screen.
She was a pretty girl, with dark brown hair and a round, friendly face. “There now, you must feel better.”
“Worlds better,” Imogen agreed. “Almost myself again.”
They walked around the screen together, and Imogen caught her breath. There were five gowns laid out on the bed, and each was more beautiful than the next. The finest of silks and satins, the most bright and happy of colors, the most elegant touches and embellishments.
“They’re beautiful,” Imogen breathed.
“Aren’t they?” Mary clutched her hands before her. “The pink is too formal, I think. But the green is my favorite and it will show you to your best advantage.”
Imogen stared at the beautiful gown and then stroked the fabric gently. It was the finest silk she’d ever touched. Finer than anything she’d ever worn, that was certain. And it was another woman’s dress. What would Fitzhugh think when he saw her in it? What would he consider her best advantage?
Or would he consider it at all?
“Let us hope so,” Imogen said as she dropped the linen cloth and picked up the gown. “I’m ready.”
But as Mary began to prepare the dress, Imogen couldn’t help but feel that statement was a lie. Whatever was about to happen, she wasn’t ready.
And she wasn’t sure she ever would be. She could only hope she would survive the next few days or weeks in this man’s protection and not get too lost in his world. She had no place here, and she couldn’t forget it.
Chapter 5
Oscar stood at the window in the dining room, staring out at the dark garden below. His thoughts ought to have been on his work. Normally that was where his mind always took him. How many times had Louisa chided him for it, asking him to come back to her?
He’d never been able to do it. Not enough for her satisfaction. And the wall had built between them and ultimately led to her death.
But tonight it wasn’t his club that filled his mind. It wasn’t even the arrangements he’d begun to make in his